


Not How It's Supposed To Be

by iknowimluckyfeatherfingers



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, The Academy Is..., Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Bottom Ryan Ross, Domestic Violence, Drug Abuse, Drug Dealing, Drug Induced Violence, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, First fic im posting, Fluff, Gay Sex, Guns, Hospitalization, Infidelity, Major Character Injury, May Be Character Death, May be rewritten, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, POV Third Person, Polyamory, Tears, Top Brendon Urie, Violence, basically a exaggerated recount hidden as a fic, crappy descriptions of big houses, drug psychosis, eventual joncer, i dated a drug dealer, some serious sexual tension man, still deciding, will be elaborated on when added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-27 21:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14434833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknowimluckyfeatherfingers/pseuds/iknowimluckyfeatherfingers
Summary: Ryan has a Fender and an English majorBrendon has a big house and lots of strangers coming in and out of itJon has blue ballsSpencer has a new printer





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> before you start this, know that this book will contain many drug references and lots of drug use. its the main plot in fact. don't take anything I write as medical advice or advice in general. I know nothing,

The orange hues of sunlight passing through the small letterbox shaped window are becoming less with the passing minutes. The only sound is the occasional drip of a leaky pipe overhead and the random shuffle of feet on the gravel and cracked glass floor.

They sit on opposite sides of the grimy basement, metal chairs cold and harsh, even to their covered legs. The jeans stained now.

In crimson.

His brown hair is matted to his forehead in an unflattering way that if this was a different day, a different city, a different basement even, maybe he would give a shit. On this day though, he leaves it how it is, not tousling the brown strands with his fingernails covered in dirt and other things he doesn’t want to think about. He stares at the cold concrete refusing to look at the man across the room from him.

The other one, rests with his head in his hands, elbows digging into his knees. His eyes red but no longer leaking. He moves his flat shoe against the basement floor causing a scratching sound as a piece of glass draws a pale line in the concrete. He stiffens and looks up. Finding eyes on him.

“Don’t do that.” His tone is cold and causes a shiver to go up his spine. He hides it well and feigns his bravery by sitting up straight. He stares across the room making eye contact with the brown eyes that use to be filled with so much love, but now only glare at him with animosity.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The leaky pipes cuts through the thick silence.

“We should go home.” He says in his strongest voice, but his strongest voice isn’t strong at all. Its as strong as a mouse, as strong as new born kittens. Worn out from the yelling and the crying and the screaming. The words scratch at his raw throat, but he continues. “We- we should go h- home Bren, its probably okay now, its probably safe and you need to go to the hospital.”

He expects to get cut off half way through his rambling like he has been all day, but the brown eyed man doesn’t interrupt and doesn’t look up at him, but he does let out a deep sigh.

“Home?” Brendon’s eyes thin and dangerous. The sight making Ryan let out an audible gulp. “You want to go home? Id love to go home too Ross, but unfortunately, we don’t have a home, do we?” he stands up, the chair scraping making the other flinch. “Because” he pauses. Making a show of it. Always the theatric. “And correct me if I'm wrong. A home is a place where one feels safe and loved by the people around them is it not? So that would imply that if we had a home together, not just a house but a home” he clarifies with a wave of his hand, his voice steadily rising. “That would imply that we love each other wouldn’t it Ryan?”

He turns to look at the tall man slouched in the chair in front of him. Ryan feels the glare on him and looks up into the eyes of the man he’s spent the last year of his life with, and instantly regrets it when he sees the disdain in his lover’s eyes.

“But you don’t love me do you Ryan? Because if you loved me you wouldn’t have done what you did. If you loved me you would have kept our home the safe place that it was, you wouldn’t have ruined it!” Brendon stands over Ryan in the chair, Ryan can smell the blood on his shirt and the tar in his lungs. He watches a bead of sweat race down Brendon’s brow bone, passing over his cheek making its way under the collar of his stained blue button up. If he wasn’t so scared, he would snidely remind Brendon of how their home could never be safe, and if something ever did happen it wouldn’t be his doing. He never used to have a problem with the firearms hidden in the ceiling and the multiple strange people that come in and out every day. It used to be turn on.

Until Brendon became the problem.

“And now, Fuck look what you did Ry, look where we are now!” his voice has risen so high that it echoes off the walls and makes Ryan’s ears pang. Brendon pacing in front of Ryan, eyes wide and angry like a bull. “We are in some leaky basement out of a Stephen King novel, and my fucking shoulder is bleeding out. I could die in this fucking moldy hell with you, you know that? But that’s probably what you wanted anyway. Been hanging around for the opportune moment you can ruin me.” Brendon’s eyes are darker than Ryan has ever seen them. He looks like he wants to tear Ryan apart. Ryan stares at Brendon as he pants and hisses while pacing. He hasn’t moved from the seat Brendon sat him in for three hours, giving up on standing his ground and screaming his defenses.

“I hate myself for how much time I wasted loving you.” Brendon sighs out. Ryan stares disbelievingly, hurt by the words. He sees Brendon standing but somehow looking so small.

He can’t pin point how they got here, what actions led to this moment. Now seeing the man Brendon has become, this pacing, scared, broken man. It’s not the same man he fell in love with.

Brendon lets out a disbelieving, maniacal laugh that causes the hair at the back of Ryan’s neck to stand up. In all the time they’ve sat in the wet smelling basement he hasn’t heard that sound come from Brendon. It is immediately chilling.

“Well, don’t I look like an idiot Ryan? Are you enjoying yourself baby? Is this what you wanted?” Brendon’s voice breathless but unsettling none the less. Ryan squints through the dark room to see Brendon eyeing at him with a cruel smile that doesn’t match his face. His hands shaking and even through all of it, Ryan has the impulse to hold them and calm him. He doesn’t for fear of not knowing how Brendon would respond. He might hit him. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“No, it’s not.” His tone has no bite to it anymore. He needs sleep and he just wants to take Brendon to a god damn hospital, but Brendon won’t let up on his nonsensical rambles of ‘how could you do this to us’ and ‘I wish I could kill you Ryan’. Why would Brendon ever think he wanted this? He thought they were solid. Brendon’s been slipping though, for a while now. Ryan decided to ignore it. Maybe he could have avoided this.

“I let you in Ryan. The only one I have ever let in. And you were playing me the whole time.” Brendon’s eyes are glassy, and Ryan is close to snapping, so close to lashing out and saying ‘you are fucking crazy, I love you, you idiot. Fucking hell, please let me take you to a hospital!’

 _I let you in Ryan_. the words ring in his head, hearing the voice crack as it echoes across his ears and back around again. He remembers the day Brendon let him in, the day he finally stopped pushing him away. What he would give to go back to that day right now, or any day before this dreadful day, unforeseen. Ryan wonders how far back he would have to go to prevent this. If time travel existed how far back would he have to go to make sure Brendon is okay. The first ‘I love you’ or the first fight? Or should he have never met him to start with? To save them both from the pain they cause each other. Is he responsible for the broken steps in Brendon’s walk? The tears currently welling in his eyes that he blinks back angrily? It would be so much easier if it was his fault. He could fix this so easily. But the reality isn’t easy, and he’s only just coming to terms with it. He feels like all the strings and threads holding his world together are being cut with a rock. Its been going on for a while.

He needs to talk to Jon when they get back. If they get back.

He moves slowly, careful not to spook Brendon in his state. He swallows, realizing how much he needs water. His legs feel like jelly when he stands, toes pointing towards the boy crouched on the concrete, pulling on the perspiring roots of his hair crying silently. The sight hurts Ryan more than a knife. He knows.

His steps register to Brendon, but he doesn’t ambush like Ryan fears he will. He just as scared as Ryan is. Scared of each other. Scared for each other. Brendon flinches when Ryan’s hand meets his shoulder. The touch light as air, but to Brendon it’s heavier than a brick. The skin contact sending a jolt through him that he hates himself for. Even after everything Ryan has done to hurt him he still craves Ryan’s touch, craves the love he has to offer. Thought he had to offer.

Ryan crouches down low, but not quite brave enough to be eye level with Brendon. He feels his heart racing in his chest and his palms feel cold. He doesn’t think he has ever been this cautious in a situation before. The basement now casts shadows around the basement and over Brendon’s features, making his nose look slightly tilted and his lower lip smaller. But Ryan still think he’s beautiful.

Brendon looks up at Ryan from his crouched position. His eyes holding fear. Fear of Ryan. Like Ryan is the monster here. But to Brendon, he is. Ryan’s misplaced guilt doubles from looking into Brendon’s eyes. It’s like looking down at a little boy when his dad comes home. Like looking into the eyes of a deer when it hears a gunshot ricochet through the forest.

Ryan is the gunshot and the hunter behind it.

He can’t deal with the way Brendon is looking at him and hangs his head squeezing his eyes shut as to not cry.

“Baby. Please let me take you to a hospital.”


	2. Spencers New Printer

Ryan will never understand the libraries policy of ‘fixing it yourself’ that the old woman behind the desk had enforced way before he started coming here. He has no knowledge on how to fix a printer besides shoving paper in it when it’s empty, but the stony old woman seems to think that every one that steps foot in the two-story building is the electrics maintenance. Never the less Ryan, will smack and prod and then call for help which he will not get each time he comes here. He’s even considered investing in his own printer, so he doesn’t have to step into the blinding white establishment. If he wasn’t a broke college student living on cup of noodles. He needs to buy more of those he thinks to himself.

The printer whirs and sputters, finishing its concerto with a mocking beep. Ryan lets out a long sigh.

He has been trying to fix this damn printer for what feels like forever, but it’s only been a little under fifteen minutes, watching the printer sputter and die and come back to life over and over again. Ryan has replaced the paper three times now, and every time the printer rejects it, spitting it out torn and ripped liked a fussy toddler.

He needs to print his essay since, apparently, his English Lit professor is a dinosaur that has never heard of a computer and email. (But he still respects him because the man is a genius when it comes to analyzing his favorite authors.) He doesn’t know what he will do if he fails this course.

The printer continues to beep as Ryan stares down at it with tired eyes. The screen flashes a little cross and the words Ryan has come to find menacing.

‘Paper Jam’

“C’mon you beast.” He says slamming his hand down on the plastic top, getting a few weird looks. He lets out a strangled sound, carding his hand through his hair. Its greasy from neglection. His courses take up all his free time, a shower sounds like a luxury. Ryan doesn’t think he has had a goodnight sleep since he started going to his towns community college. He has clean clothes though, going to the other side of the town every two weeks with Spencer, to his friend’s former home, to use their washer and dryer.

He shuffles his scuffed shoes on the library’s carpet that he thinks really needs a steam clean, he wonders how many years since it has been properly cleaned.

Libraries tend to have a purgatory feeling to them Ryan had decided a few years ago. The same energy as the time he walked into a burger place and discovered he was the only customer in there. The employees making burgers for no one, their blank stares looking up from the task of flipping and frying and assembling burgers, their hands still moving from the muscle memory. That same eerie feeling, he feels right now in the campus library.

The anonymous people, their faces in books, the librarian behind the counter reading one of her own. Most likely none of them know each other but they all see each other. Ryan recognizes three faces today. The first is the blonde girl he usually sees here when he sulks in here on Tuesdays, the next, a quite short guy in the anatomy section, wearing jeans that skim the bottom of his shoes and the last is the stoner that sits in the back, earphones always too high that you can hear it through the library. He doesn’t know any of their names, but he feels like he knows them from the books he’s seen them read and the people they come in with. Ryan is observant. His friend Spencer says creepy. Ryan doesn’t think he’s creepy.

He loosens his scarf and lets out a relaxed sigh when the cool air hits his skin. Ryan hopes, a few more minutes of fiddling with the controls and praying to Vishnu or Jesus or fucking Ra, that the printer will finally print his 8,000-word piece on how Wilkie Collins influenced the early literature of Charles Dickens. He’s very proud of it and can’t wait to hand it in, if only the printer would work.

A light vibration comes from his pocket, startling him from his thoughts on how much he would be fined for smashing the printer with a sledge hammer. He looks around wondering if the old woman will scowl at him for answering his phone. He decides it’s safe. Seeing Spencer’s name, he calms, but only slightly.

“Hey Spence, what’s up?” he whispers, trying not to alert the oblivious librarian.

“Why are we whispering?” Spencer whispers, mimicking Ryan, he can hear the amused smile in his tone.

“I’m in the library you, ass.”

“Ew. What are you doing there?”

Ryan lets out a long sigh. “Dueling my undertaker.”

“The printer then?” he laughs down the line causing Ryan’s eyebrows to crease.

“It’s taunting me, Spencer.”

“Just come here and use mine.” Spencer says casually. Ryan’s eyes widen.

“When- “his voice is louder and shriller than he would have hoped, he looks around cautiously for the scrutinizing gaze of the devil hidden behind mahogany. He has never seen her walking around, he’s convinced she has claws for legs. He clears his throat. “When, pray tell, did you get a printer?”

“Like, three days ago. It’s pretty neat. Hooks up through Bluetooth.”

Ryan picks up his bag and starts saving and shutting down his computer. “Why am I only hearing about this now?” he says disbelievingly while rushing in putting his laptop back in his bag.

“Oh. I’m sorry Ryan, I didn’t realize I need to tell you everything that happens. My apologies. I got a printer on Saturday, also, last night I ran out of shampoo.”

“Right, okay. Well I’ll be over in ten.” He says already pacing to the exit, glad to save his sanity. He figures he will never see the printer again as Spencer now has one. The thought makes him feel a strange sadness for the machine. For the past two years he has come here and had a standoff with the printer that either ends in him leaving or the printer pitying him and giving him wants he wants. He looks over his shoulder and gives a forlorn look to the white block across the library.

“You’ve been a worthy opponent, I bid you adieu.”

He’d tip an imaginary hat and give a bow if he didn’t think its so foolish.

 

 

 

“Well, don’t you look dashing!” Spencer exclaims sarcastically when he sees Ryan in the door way to his shared apartment. Because Ryan truly doesn’t look dashing, his eyes look sunken, his hair unwashed and his skin pasty. Ryan knowing this. lets out a fake laugh and pushes through the door, disregarding Spencer, looking around awkwardly for the printer.

“It’s over there.” Spencer gestures vaguely to the desk on the side of the room. Ryan does a quick swivel, so he is facing it and tries to hide his calmed smile. He’s not very good at it.

“Anyone would think I just saved your life.” Spencer lets out with a Spencer laugh, the sound always being so tender to Ryan, Spencer’s laugh sounding like swinging on a swing set, watching The Simpsons after school, his first time in a bar. Ryan hopes to himself Spencer never stops laughing.

“Yeah, well, you kind of have.” Ryan breathes out, already turned his laptop on, waiting for the password screen. Spencer by the kitchenette where the dishes are piled, none of the roommates wanting to do them.

“Oh, don’t tell me that Ryan, because you just might owe me one.” Spencer tone is joking but Ryan knows better. It’s Spencer’s ‘I know something you don’t’ voice, it makes Ryan look up, pausing from typing his unnecessarily long password.

He gives Spencer his best glare, but when it comes to Spencer, he can’t glare, merely giving an angry squint, messing it up with smiling and a nervous chuckle.

“What’s going on Spencer?” he says slowly, watching as Spencer breaks into a smirk behind his freshly made cup of coffee.

“What do you mean Ryan?” Spencer says innocently, making Ryan even more curious. He lets it go for now, needing to finish the task at hand.

The printer is new and black and sleek with blue lighting around the buttons. It’s lavish compared to the one in the library. Ryan would kiss it in gratitude if Spencer wasn’t standing seven feet away from him. As Spencer said, it hooks up with Bluetooth, taking a while to sync. Spencer offers him a coffee, pulling him out of his intense staring of the printer’s monitor. “Would love one.”

“Is It second hand?”

“Nope. Brand new.”

“How did you afford it?” Ryan knows his questions won’t be taken as an insult. They are in the same boat: broke college students struggling to eat in the day. It seems Ryan’s side tips closer to the water than Spencer’s though. He tries not to feel too green-eyed.

“Needed one. Saved for one. You’d probably have more money if you didn’t spend it on your guitar.” Ryan thinks of his Fender re-issue sitting in the corner of his apartment. She cost a pretty penny but its all worth it when she sings. The vintage pickup an investment too. But the way the light dances on her glossy finish. He’d rather her than eating any day.

“Yeah but that guitar is sex so,” he shrugs, noticing a coffee cup sitting in front of him, picking it up and flashing Spencer a grateful smile across the preparation counter.

“Yeah, you have a point there.”

They sit in silence as the printer whirs, but the whirs bring him joy and comfort instead of misery this time around. This printer is his savior. The coffee taste good, but Spencer’s coffee always tastes good, he should really ask the brand he uses.

“You know I'm using this to my advantage. No more library printer now that this glorious thing has waltzed its way into my life.” He looks down at the printer, the printer that is actually processing his request. He takes a leisured sip of the coffee looking down at it indulgently.

“The guys have been using it too, so I might have to start charging you vultures.”

“But you wouldn’t charge me, would you? Not Ryan, your lifelong friend.” Ryan flashes Spencer his honey eyes doing his best dog pout.

Spencer breaks out in a loud laugh. “The bread don’t come cheap Ry.”

Ryan refrains from correcting Spencer’s poor English (because he knows Spencer hates that), taking a sip to hide his fond smile. He doesn’t know where he would be without Spencer if he’s honest. They sit in a comfortable silence drinking there coffee as the pages come out, Ryan making three copies. Just in case.

Until Spencer cracks.

“There’s a party. William invited us.” Spencer says this with a slight jerk of his head, in the direction of the hall, gesturing to William’s room.

Ryan puts simply “I don’t do parties.” Spencer puts his cup of coffee down next to the Mt. Everest of dish piles, looking up to smirk at Ryan. “You do now. Seeing as you owe me one.”

Ryan eyes go wide with realization and lets out a whine of disapproval, looking at Spencer like a whiny child would in a grocery store when their mother lets out a curt ‘no’. No, you can have that put it back, I won’t ask again. “This is why you called me isn’t it?” Ryan says feeling trivial betrayal.

“I was going to use the excuse of the time you said, ‘I owe you one’ when I gave you my lunch the other day, but this is better.” Spencer leans against the counter, cocking his hip, giving Ryan a Cheshire Cat grin. “The printer thing fell right into my lap, you really expect me not to use it?”

“Why would I want to go if all I’ll do is sit, watching you slutting around looking to get laid, whilst listening to music I don’t like?”

“Slutting isn’t a word Mr. English Major, and I won’t.”

Ryan scoffs.

“I won’t! I promise.”

“Your promise is worth shit Smith,” Ryan retorts.

“Never the less, you’re going,” he says with a smile going back to his coffee.

“This is blackmail.” Ryan says with a sigh.

“No, it’s not, it’s an honest exchange. With slight restraint of free will.” He lets out a giggle as Ryan puts his head in his hands. Just when things were looking up.

Ryan argues pointlessly “I'm not going.”

“Yes, you are.” Spencer says walking out of the room leaving no room for disagreement, Ryan looking on in disbelief at Spencer’s antics.

 

 

Lily West, that’s her name he finds out when the MC comes back onto the tiny bar stage. She's not too bad Ryan decides. The bar is fairly empty, and he seems to be the only one listening, but she's not half bad. A Melissa Ethridge feel to her he thinks to himself. Her set lasts a little over twenty minutes, just her and her acoustic guitar. The man across the booth from him makes eye contact again as she walks off the stage, now devoid of distraction and excuse. He’s not what Ryan expected at all. Yes, his photo is the same, it’s not like he’s been catfished, it’s just that, the man Ryan spoke to on his dating app was a lot less reserved than the guy in front of him. Ryan walked into the small bar half an hour ago, and all he knows about Xavier is that he’s a mechanic, has three dogs and doesn’t like seafood. Two facts he already knew from his profile. The air is thick, and Ryan has an awful need to fill the silence. But Xavier beats him to it.

“On your profile there was a photo of you on a stage. So, you perform?” The girl clearly prompting his question. Ryan smiles hoping it doesn’t look too relieved.

“Um, yeah. When I can you know, my courses take up a lot of my free time. There’s this family friendly tavern that I do sets at every now and then."

Xavier nods understandingly taking a sip of his beer. Ryan twiddles his thumbs. Figuratively.

“You any good?”

The barmaid that took their orders comes back, holding a plate of wedges and another beer for Xavier, Ryan sticks to his coke. “Thankyou -I’d like to think so, haven’t had any complaints yet.” Ryan gives him a cheeky grin, his shoulders tense though to the point of cramping. Maybe Spencer will call him, and he can make a quick getaway.

Xavier goes silent again, undoubtedly out of questions, and Ryan wants to scream from how awkward this is. He watches as Xavier takes a sip of his beer (more like a gulp), focusing on his calloused hands, noting a trace of black grease on the crease of his thumb. Xavier catches Ryan watching him.

“I’ve never met a dude who wears scarves before.” Ryan looks down at his beigey scarf that Xavier is gesturing to with a frown. “It’s kinda weird.” He must not get out much if he’s never seen a dude wearing a scarf. But it is Nevada so maybe he has a point. The sacrifices Ryan takes to be fashionable.

Ryan grabs a wedge, to do something with his hands. It’s crispy and the inside fluffy when he bites down.

“What’s weird about it?” he says, tone challenging.

“I don’t know it’s- “Ryan waits for it, he knows what’s coming. “kind of girly, don’t you think?”

He smiles, amused by Xavier’s hesitance to answer. As though his response would set an uneasy tone to their date. Like it doesn’t already have one. Ryan appreciates the sentiment.

“I'm gay though so,” Ryan shrugs unapologetically. “Also, I just like scarves, same way you like biker jackets. Do you have a bike?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Ryan takes another wedge from the basket. Food places always have these cool baskets that they bring your chips and such in. He wonders where they get them from.

Ryan’s definitely had some dodgy dates, but this one takes the cake. Xavier isn’t even looking at him anymore focusing on something across the room that is apparently more interesting. Ryan thinks of all the things he could be doing if this ‘date’ didn’t happen. He could be hanging out with Spencer, at his place watching some chick-flick that William put on. He could be playing his baby, he’s been meaning to catch up on his writing. He could be reading a book. But instead, he is in some shitty bar off the highway somewhere, watching as the man across from him peels the label off his sweaty beer.

“Well, this is shit.” When he voices what he’s really thinking, Xavier isn’t expecting it at all, looking up at Ryan with his version of surprise. He lets out a low sigh and leans into the booth a bit.

“Yeah, it really is.” Well at least he’s honest, Ryan can grant him that. “You wanna get out of here?”

The question throws Ryan off a bit, sure, he expected it at one point tonight, but that’s if it went well. The date went horribly, and this guy is still trying to take him home. He doesn’t know whether to be offended that Xavier sees him as that easy or flattered that he’s still considering their unspoken agreement. Xavier is looking at him questioningly, his dark eyebrows raised a touch. Ryan weighs up his options. Xavier is attractive, but he doesn’t want to say yes making him seem like a slut. Xavier was also late, leaving Ryan to sit by himself, watching the door to see if he came through, which makes him think he’s an asshole. But the thought of Xavier’s strong hands gripping onto his small frame helps him make the decision.

“Yeah, sure, let’s grab the check first.”

 

 

It wasn’t worth it in the end. Xavier’s apartment was cold and his dogs loud. Ryan also didn’t think about how to get back considering they went in Xavier’s car, Ryan leaving his behind. The sex was mediocre at best and he called a cab when he’d come down. They don’t exchange further contact details and he walks out with a wave over his shoulder, a wave that says, ‘I will never see you again, thanks for the orgasm’.The yellow taxi is waiting for him when he makes his way down the iron stairs. Ryan feels cheap.

When he gets in the back of the cab that smells of Chinese food, he lets out a sigh, running his fingers through his damp hair, pulling his other hand into his lap, noticing the bruises on his wrist. Xavier was rough. Ryan’s not complaining because he likes it rough, but Xavier’s rough was detached. Impersonal. Ryan doesn’t like that.

“Alright we’re here.” The taxi driver announces with a cough pulling Ryan out of his recount of the night. Ryan looks around at the dark parking lot. The driver parked right next to his silver Honda Accord like Ryan instructed he do. At least he doesn’t have to walk around in the shady night, not knowing what lurk in the bushes. That’s comforting.With the hand not gripping onto his bundled scarf, he hands him the owed amount and the cabby gives him a thankful grunt.

Stepping out into the sticky Nevada heat once again, he raises his arms over his head, giving his back a much-needed stretch before walking to his car.

“Your buttons are done up wrong by the way.” The balding taxi man says unjustly before driving out of the carpark. Ryan looks down at his simple button up seeing the space above his belly button that is awfully open. He feels even more like a slut.

He gets a grip of his surroundings, the worrying silence, the shadows the trees around him cast, his brain already fabricating monsters staring at him in the dark. He really wants to get in his car now.

His heartrate decreases exponentially once he’s safely confined in his vehicle, doors locked. He turns the ignition and then tries again because his car is old and always needs two key turns, sometimes it chooses not to start at all. Thankfully, this is not one of those times.

“You are a desperate slut Ryan Ross and you deserve the unexceptional dicking you received.” His reflection in the mirror mouths the words along with him, staring back with the same accusing eyes. He shakes his head at himself and laughs a very non-Spencer laugh. A laugh filled of self-deprecation and pity. With a slam on the steering he lets out a loud and angry “Fuck.”

He starts his commute home thinking of the shower he will have to wash the memories of this shameful night away.


	3. Hard On For Terry Cruz

Ryan knocks on the door, balancing the massive bag of clothes on his shoulder. Its been a bit longer than their usual scheduling, so the laundry seems to be double this time.

After three knocks, William opens the door, phone to his ear, waving a silent hello and come in. Ryan flashes a smile and makes his way to the kitchen like most days. William told him to stop asking if he could raid their fridge, and Ryan was more than happy to oblige. Now, he opens the fridge grabbing the bread as William walks in circles. It's a brain thing Ryan learnt a while back, our brains trying to find where the voice is coming from so it's send us on a wild goose chase if we let it. Ryan watches silently as William walks to the chair picking up the magazine, putting it back down, and starting his circle of the room again. Fascinating.

"Mhm, right. Yep. Yes, I'll remember. I've written it down mom, I won't forget." William's tone is bored, Ryan assumes he's talking to his mom. Ryan goes back to the fridge in search of ham.

"Ryan's here, I got to go. Yep I will. Okay love you too." He hangs up, putting his phone in his pocket.

"Mom says, hi." Bringing his attention to Ryan, giving him a welcoming smile.

"Hi Mrs. Beckett." Ryan says even though the phone has been hung up. A repetitive habit of his. "What was that about?" William comes up next to him and steals a piece of ham from the deli bag.

"Fourth of July plans. Mom wants me to go to that cake shop, you know the one across from the bowling place?" Ryan nods knowing which one he means. "Yeah, well she wants me to go that way, pick up a cake and then go up back home, which is stupid." William sighs picking at a thread on his jeans. "But mums you know."

Ryan doesn't know, but he nods anyway.

He walks back to the fridge opening it, seeing some relish that peaks his interest. He grabs it putting it on the bench, about to open it. But is stopped by William.

"Oh, that's Travie's. Something about grandmas and secret recipes. I wouldn't touch it just in case." Ryan nods understandingly, putting it back on the shelf he found it.

"What about you? Plans for Fourth of July?" Ryan looks up from cutting his finished sandwich into triangles to see William looking at him with interest.

"Ginger always insist I spend it with them, so I'm going back with Spencer." Ryan finishes, taking a bite out of his freshly made sandwich, the taste making him sigh in pleasure.

"Dude, do you ever eat besides when you're here?" William's eyebrows crease in worry, Ryan feels called out and his cheeks flush slightly.

"You know I don't." he says with a smile, playing it off as a joke. "Ginger spoils me though, she'll give me lots of containers to take back."

"Well, Thank god for Ginger then."

"Yeah, she's a saint." Ryan says with a smile when he thinks of Spencer's mom and the warm hug she will trap him in when he walks through the door.

A comfortable silence surrounds them, Ryan eating his first meal since five the day before, and William looking at a gossip magazine, said magazine adorning the newest image of Brangelina and their adopted kids at the beach.

"So, where's Gabe then?" Ryan says with a mischievous smile, William looks up from the magazine with a slight rouge to his cheeks.

"He doesn't live here, you know." William hides his face in the magazine once again, a usual response whenever Ryan mentions his relationship.

"Huh. Could've fooled me." He says with a short laugh that makes William frown. "But seriously, where is he?"

William straightens out the magazine and coughs. "He's at work. Like the responsible adult he is."

Ryan gives William a confused frown. "I thought he got fired from the diner."

William scratches his neck. "He did. He works in retail now. But he finishes his shift in-" William takes a glance at his watch. "twenty minutes, he'll come around when he's done."

"And he will sleep here, right?" Ryan puts his plate in the sink, it clatters before settling comfortably between two glasses.

 William sighs looking up from the magazine, giving Ryan sympathetic look. "Why do you have to be so cynical Ryan? You'd think someone who reads as much poetry as you do would appreciate love."

Ryan turns to look at William's saddened expression. "Not all poems are about love, Will. In fact, most are about the complete opposite. Heartbreak, disdain, war. Those are the ones worth reading. Poems about love are boring to me."

"They might not be one day. Someone might compel you to write your own love poems." William gets this far away, dizzy look in his eyes that makes Ryan want to barf.

"Yeah maybe one day, Will."

William's pitying of Ryan's loveless life is interrupted by the bathroom door opening and steam bleeding out. Spencer flashes Ryan a smile, but after a look around the room it drops, and he narrows his eyes at William.

"No. no, no, no. Not again Will." William and Ryan share the same confused expression, wondering what has Spencer's nickers in a twist.

"What?"

"No." Spencer repeats unhelpfully, the same wide demanding eyes glowering at William.

"You're gonna have to give me more than that Spence."

Spencer lets out a huff and stalks across the room, Ryan craning his neck to follow him. He stops in front of the tv that Ryan didn't even notice was on. He gestures with one hand, the other holding tightly onto his towel, towards the flat screen. "This, Will. No." William rolls his eyes, sighing.

"This again. Really?"

"Yes really! Because you've put it on again. We talked bout this." Spencer looks dead serious, like this is an actual problem. What Ryan would give to be Spencer if his only issues in life are senseless arguments with his roommate over something as mundane as what's on the television.

"Yeah, we did. And I said you're being a child. Its just a movie Spencer." William utters out whilst looking down at the magazine in front of him. Spencer trudges across the room ripping it from under his eyes, demanding attention. William swivels in his chair to face him, a bored expression on his face.

"It's not just a movie. It's a movie I'm sick to death of watching, Will." Spencer snaps, Ryan thinks that Spencer must be really fucking bored to be arguing about this.

"Too bad, Spencer, I like it. Its my tv I'll play what I want on it." William states with cheek and authority.

Spencer huffs, standing in front of Will, frustrated, before turning on his heel and pacing to the couch. He picks up the tv remote, looking at Will before switching it off. He smiles snootily at William, leaving for his room, waving the remote in his hand as he goes. His door closes.

After Spencer leaves, Ryan looks at William in question, the other sighs pinching his nose.

"Yeah, so, um, what the fuck was that?" Ryan says dumbfounded by what he just witnessed from the kitchen of his friends sixth story apartment. William shakes his head at Ryan, not wanting to explain.

"He's such a fucking bitch lately." He gets up walking to the tv, turning it on via side button. When the picture comes back on, Ryan sees that its playing the cringe comedy film White Chicks, and is unwantedly reminded of a rant of Spencer's he tolerated whilst getting coffee a mere week ago.

Ryan nods in agreement, but he can't imagine why Spencer's acting out the way he is. It's summer and classes are over and as far as he knows, Spencer's been going out with Travie to the strip most nights. Maybe that's why. Spencer has too much time on his hands and wants to get back into his classes. Ryan couldn't disagree more, happy to have a much-deserved break.

"I'm gonna make another sandwich if that's cool with you." Ryan declares after a long period of neither of them talking, both engrossed in the film, even if Ryan agrees with Spencer when he says it's not that funny.

"Knock yourself out." Ryan won't knock himself out, but he will make another ham sandwich, since Spencer's bickering exhausted him. He walks the small distance back to the fridge for round two.

Spencer walks from his room, now wearing not a towel, but jeans and a grey t-shirt, his hair still wet but towel dried, he drags out a bag like Ryan's and places it in the loungeroom by the desk, exhaling noisily.

"William, please, I beg you, turn it off." Spencer's tone bordering on desperate, cuts through the air making Ryan frown at his immature friend. William lets out an unamused sigh, standing, putting his hands on his hips.

"Hey, want to watch something else? Get your own tv then!" he flips Spencer off weakly, Ryan watches on in a state of confused fascination, grateful for not having a roommate.

"No. I won't get my own tv! Just please Bill, stop putting White Chicks on!"

"We don't really have any other DVD's Spencer, are you going to go buy them?" Ryan takes a bite off the sandwich he just made, never taking his eyes off the bickering roommates. Spencer's overreacting here, somethings clearly bugging him that doesn't involve the film.

"Doesn't Gabe have some you can steal! I've had it with this film and your hard on for Terry Cruz!" this makes William turn a new shade of red and Ryan nearly choke on his food.

"I do not! I happen to like him for his acting skills, thank you very much! Can't be worse than your obsession with Keanu Reeves!"

Spencer gasped, sounding quite feminine if Ryan must say. "That is totally different because Keanu is amazing, and John Wick is a masterpiece! This film- " Spencer gestures wildly to the television showing three girls excitedly screaming. "This film isn't even funny after you've seen more than three times! Shitty plot, one dimensional characters, the camera work is terrible, the jokes! Like the part with the dog and how it flies out the car window? How is that funny to you Bill?" Ryan watches as Spencer points and lists with his fingers, still chewing on his sandwich, except now with caution, not wanting to come close to choking again.

William stands, his arms folded defensively. "Well I thought Keanu's performance in the Matrix was middling"

The silence that incases the room is deafening, and time seems to stop. Ryan scared to even swallow in fear of jump starting the world back up. Spencer stares at William, jaw on the floor, the most offended look on his face. William holding back a smug grin.

"William Beckett. You take that back right now."

"Hey c'mon Spence, lets go before traffic gets bad." Ryan says desperate to pacify in fear that this could turn into a real argument, not just girly bickering.

Spencer turns to Ryan, seeming to forget he was standing in the kitchen waiting for him so they could leave. He reddens, as if realizing how stupid and childish this is, but he won't be forgetting what William said anytime soon.

"Okay. But we're not finished here." Spencer's says turning to William with a threatening finger. A not very threatening gesture when it comes down to it though.

"Fair enough, Spence." William sighs out, tired of this conversation, probably wanting to go back to bed.

Ryan picks up his bag, throwing it onto his shoulder for easier transport."Bye, Will, see you Wednesday." Ryan says over his shoulder, making his way out the door, done with waiting on Spencer.

"Bye Ry." William replies, walking out of the main room back to his. Spencer picks up his bag, putting it on his shoulder the same as Ryan, walking out the door, closing it behind him. Once its closed he is met with a smack to the back of the head from Ryan.

"Ow! Dude what the hell was that for?" Spencer exclaims, palming the side of his head where Ryan struck him.

"What crawled up your ass and died?" Ryan stares at him, scrutinizing, as though scolding him as a father would his bratty teenage son.

"Nothing. Just Will's getting on my nerves with that shit." Spencer answers in defense. Ryan scoffs, drawing out a disbelieving laugh.

"You're telling me that performance in there was because of a shitty movie? Some unwashed dishes? Did he use your trimmer again? Grow up Spencer. I'm not stupid and you'll tell me eventually, but don't take it out on Will." Ryan definitely sounds like a scolding parent now, but he doesn't even care, Spencer's attitude towards William, made Ryan angry and disappointed with his friend. He hasn't seen him act like that since he was as stupid senior. Spencer looks down at his feet timidly.

Ryan huffs, walking towards the staircase and down it, hearing Spencer's foot steps behind him, ignoring him down all sixth flights until they reach the carpark.

"Where's your car?" Spencer says confused, stopping in front of the space Ryan usually parks in, the space devoid of the silver hunk of metal.

"It wouldn't start, hence why I carried this thing on my shoulder instead of leaving it in the car." Ryan says gesturing dramatically to the empty space with an outstretched arm, still annoyed at Spencer, his own actions becoming immature.

"Okay," Spencer says say with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, that now resembles a shaggy dogs hair, stringy curls sitting atop his head. "It's not a problem, we are still taking mine, I was just asking a question."

"I heard you." Ryan retorts, walking over to Spence's car, pulling on the passenger door, which is still locked. He sighs annoyed, looking at Spencer expectantly. Spencer presses the button on the keys and the car honks, flashing its lights. Ryan pulls the now unlocked door, opening it and sitting in the car, slamming the door after him. Spencer sighs once again and gets into the driver's side.

They say nothing. For a whole forty-five minutes neither of them utters a word. When the angry silence dissipates it is replaced by an awkward one. Both parties wanting to say something to cut the tension, an explanation. An apology. Just something. Ryan didn't realize how long forty-five minutes was until he was stuck in a tension filled car for that time. Spencer taps the steering wheel agitatedly and Ryan does anything from picking at the fraying knee of his jeans to trying to sneak in a nap.

Spencer's car comes to a stop at around 2:15pm, outside of Spencer's parents house, Ryan looks out of the window to the white wood house, to the tire swing that still hangs from the tree out front, memories flood his head of Spencer pushing him higher and higher. His thoughts are halted when he sees a woman, late forties coming down the porch to the car, and he involuntarily smiles.

Spencer is first out of the car, going to Ginger, all wide grins and sparkling blue eyes. While holding her son she lets out a laugh that makes Ryan's heart warm.

"My boys are home." She says when she sees Ryan, engulfing him in the hug he's been thinking about all day. Her clothes smell like burning incense, like sleepovers at Spencer's, like love. "Quickly, come inside we've got the AC going." She walks behind ushering them into the house, and upon entering, Ryan looks to the display cabinet to see his favorite photo of him and Spencer as kids, pointing water guns at each other. He can hear the laughter still after all these years.

"I've been baking cookies." Ginger says softly, motherly, gesturing with her head towards the kitchen. The boys fall into step with her, watching for where the floor sticks up a bit too much. â€œHow was the drive?"

Ryan and Spencer look at each other for the first time since they got in the car back at Spencer's apartment building, Ryan thinks stupidly that Spence's aged since then. They decide to lie to Ginger and give her smiles that would ease any ill thought she had.

"It was good, listened to the radio." Spencer supplies calmly, Ginger nods in approval, resuming to her cookies. She pulls the tray out of the oven, and the air instantly smells like freshly baked shortbread cookies

"Your dad is on a business trip sweetie, so he won't be saying hello this time, but you can talk to him on the phone." Ginger says into the oven.

"Yeah, I know mom. You told me on the phone yesterday."

"Oh, that I did, sorry dear."

Ginger stands holding a second tray of cookies and placing them on the stove top next to the other one. Ryan and Spencer look on in awe, not unlike kids in a candy store. Ginger sees them staring and giggles.

"Those ones over there are already cool if you want them." she points to the opposite counter, Ryan follows her finger and sees a large plate of the same amazing smelling cookies. They both give Ginger a thankful smile before walking over to the counter. Ryan picks up a cookie, it still warm but not scolding, he takes a bite and it falls apart, melting onto his tongue in the most perfect way. He lets out an accidental moan. "These are amazing Ginger." Spencer nods in agreement, savoring the taste.

"Well, only the best for my boys, right?" She smiles kindly at the two boys as they scoff down cookies, happy to have them back in the house."Now the cookies are out of the way, who wants hot cocoa?"

"Me." They say in unison.

 

Ryan was right. Before leaving Ginger stocked him up with enough left overs and cans to last him two months, pulling them out of the fridge exclaiming "You're so skinny Ryan, I feed you, but you never seem to grow.", Ryan watching on saying "You really don't have to Ginger, I've got food at home.", because its polite to deny things you are given before excepting like you know you will. Now, Ryan and Spencer drive back home, their clothes now washed, and the homesickness cured (at least for now), with a lot less tension then when driving there.

The three-day visit held mending properties the boys weren't aware of. The motherly nature of Ginger making him feel homeostatic and relaxed, the energy of the memories the house holds stronger than the anger they felt prior. By Tuesday night, Ryan, feeling completely content and over any fights, laying in the loungeroom, where Ginger had convinced them to sleep, surrounded by warmth, utters out a quiet "You're my best friend, Spencer.", into the dark room. Getting the reply of "You're my best friend, Ryan."

It must be something in the incense.


	4. Nervous Part One

When they arrive to the secluded villa, Ryan understands why Spencer gave him a months’ notice. A lot of planning went into this. The house is immaculate, and bass is pumping out of it, vibrating all through Ryan’s body. Being only ten at night, you’d think it wouldn’t be too crowded yet, but from the driveway, Ryan can already see party goers taking up the front yard, steadily trickling out of the gates and around the trees surrounding the hilltop house. Shirtless characters running and giggling, and some already passed out, their unconscious bodies being crowded by their mates enforcing the Shoes Rule.

The house if you could call it a house, glows in yellow lighting, shining on the trees and concrete walls. In natural sunlight, the walls of the house would be cream color, but Ryan observes than the night sky makes shadowed areas look almost purple. It looks like it should be Pablo Escobar’s holiday home, a humble classy affair, rather than the cesspool that Ryan can imagine is inside.

“Fuck me, this is lush.” Spencer says getting out of the car, looking in wonder at the villa. William lets out a low whistle.

Ryan steps out of the car, the vibrations now shooting directly up the soles of his feet and into his racing heart. Travie and Gabe step out of the same door, arm in arm, already tipsy from participating in pregame back at the apartment. They all look on with curious wonder and pent up excitement.

“Guys. I have a really good feeling about this one.” Gabe says proudly, wobbling from Travie’s side to walk ahead. He stops, turning, making a beckoning motion. “Come forth brethren, we shalt taketh this party by chaotic storm!” He shouts up to the sky, arms raised high. Travie lets out a laugh and a whoop, taking William’s arm and catching up to Gabe. Ryan thinks that the house seems to be enough of a chaotic storm without Gabe joining it.

Spencer pulls on his vest, while Ryan puts on glasses, apparently attempting Bob Dylan’s avoidance tactic. “You ready?” Spencer asks Ryan after locking the car.

“Probably not.” Ryan says with genuine fear, he has no idea what to expect when he walks through the door, that’s if they get that far, since the party outside looks big enough all on its own. Ryan imagines that the house is holding at least three different parties inside. Each with their stereo playing different music, different people to mingle with. You come inside and pick which one you want to join.

“Right, well, lets do it.” Spencer looks at Ryan with the most eager smile on his face. He lets out a howl of his own which is returned by Travie further down the path, Ryan smiles and shakes his head.

They walk up the hill, passing many characters as they do, a girl sits on the side of the path, drunk, puking while a guy rubs her back with a sour look on his face. Ryan cringes. Gabe makes it to the door first, waiting for his friends, pent up energy evident as he bounces on the balls of his feet.  
The door is wide open, and Ryan can see the flashing lights on the inside, two girls are sucking faces next to the entrance, Ryan tries his hardest not to interrupt by being too close. From the entrance Ryan can see a DJ booth that everyone dances around and identifies that’s where the bass that is making is ears bleed is coming from. Travie and William loop arms with Gabe, giving Ryan one last look of matching grins before skipping through the threshold. Spencer follows them, but not without messing Ryan’s hair up as a farewell.

“Here goes nothing.” He sighs to himself.  
He walks into the house, where the music is coming from, where the people forget about their worries, where his friends disappeared to, and is reminded why he doesn’t go to parties this big. Upon entering a giggling girl knocks into him, falling over, standing to give him an accusatory look.

“Sorry” he mumbles, to quiet to be heard over the thumping song.

In awe he looks up into the dark room, seeing how high the ceiling is, looking like a black abyss with the occasional flash of blue and green. Then looking down to the rug beneath his feet, admiring it in the little light the room has. He looks to his left to see another room and then forwards to see more seas of people. He makes the conscious decision to check out the next room. The task proves to be an effort, he maneuvers through dancing sweaty bodies to get to his destination.

He steps down into what appears to be a living room, same walls and flooring, chairs filled with people all talking, laughing and kissing. After closer inspection he concludes that this is where the substances are. He sees a group of stoners on the left side of the room, passing bongs and joints, some looking close to falling asleep, on the other side of the room he sees men and women around a glass coffee table covered in beer bottles, glasses, pill bags and what looks to be coke. He watches as a blonde guy shamelessly leans forward, snorting a line, coming back up with a groan and shake of his head. Hands cover his eyes, he yelps in surprise.

He hears a giggle, he turns, and the hands fall from his face as he removes his glasses, tucking them into the neck of his shirt. He is greeted with the sight of a girl with bright orange hair smiling at him with teeth.

“Hayley!” he exclaims with realization, wrapping her in a tight hug.

“Spencer said you were coming but I didn’t believe him! Oh, I'm so glad you did!” She jumps wrapping her arms around him once again, clearly a little drunk. “What do you think?” She yells over the music, leaning close to Ryan’s ear.

“Of what?”

She laughs drunkenly. “This amazing party silly!” she says like it’s obvious.

“Yeah. It’s definitely something” Ryan says looking around the room distractedly, now noticing an entrance to another room.

Hayley takes a drag from the joint she is holding, nodding thoughtfully before blowing out smoke. She holds it out to Ryan in question. “You want a hit?”

Ryan shrugs taking it from her, raising it to his lips and pulling. It’s stronger than he expects making his throat slightly sting and constrict in protest. He screws up his face, exhaling. “Fuck.” Ryan exclaims mainly to himself, looking at the joint with admiration, raising it to his lips again.

“I know right.” Hayley agrees airily. “Good shit, right?” she leans on his shoulder taking it from his hand once he’s exhaled, taking a hit and blowing it in his face, then gasping, jumping back, confusing Ryan’s already disorientated head. “Have you had a drink yet?” she yells, alarmed. Ryan simply shakes his head.

“Well that won’t do!” Hayley takes his arm walking fast towards the entrance Ryan was looking at earlier. He lets himself be pulled by the small woman and finds himself in a kitchen, the lighting change hurting his eyes. Hayley continues to pull him until they stand parallel to a marble island with bottles upon bottles of liquor placed on top. She grabs a red cup and a tall bottle of vodka, pouring a generous amount into the cup while Ryan looks on, wanting to protest. She smiles at him, reaching across the table for the creaming soda, pouring that into the cup as well. Ryan, once again, takes Hayley’s joint from her relaxed lips bringing it to his own as he watches her makes her own cup of vodka and soda, the joint still making his throat clench but he’s pleasantly high so it doesn’t matter. Hayley turns to him with a triumphant grin holding his cup out to take. Ryan takes it.

“To this pretty dope party.” Hayley says as a toast, clinking their plastic cups together.  
Ryan takes a sip, looking around tentatively at the kitchen. The kitchen is as full as the living room, except people seem to be drunker in this room. The bass can still be felt dancing up and down his spine along with the light buzz in his head from, in his opinion, the extremely strong joint.

“Why are you here Ryan?” Hayley asked her brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what I mean is we never see you at parties, but you decide to come to this one, probably the biggest party of spring break so far.”

Ryan is quick to answer with “It wasn’t my choice, Spencer roped me into this.”

Hayley looks at Ryan with an amused expression, taking a sip from her cup. “I could’ve sworn you were a grown man Ryan. A grown man who could’ve said no.”

Ryan thinks about this for a quick moment. Yeah, he could’ve easily said no to Spencer, but he didn’t. he has denied Spencer’s request before so what’s different this time? He must be really bored he thinks to himself taking another hit of the nearly burned out joint.

Hayley tips the rest of the contents of her cup down her throat and lets out an excited whoop that makes Ryan’s hazy mind jump. “Let’s go you haven’t seen the rest of the house and I haven’t seen the other boys yet.” She grabs his arm once again, dragging him out of the kitchen, down a hallway, walking away from the main room, weaving through a loud group of guys watching a skinny dude chug a forty.

The next room has more chairs filled with more people, including Gabe, Travie and William. William is laughing wildly as Gabe stares at him shamelessly while Travie sucks on his neck. It seems William becomes a lot less shy about his polyamorous relationship when he’s tipsy.

“What’s up sluts!” Hayley shouts in her drunk state at the three men, Travie detaches himself, breaking into a wide grin when he sees the bubbly girl. Gabe is first to stand, wobbling slightly.

“You’re the slut around here Williams.” Gabe says with sparkling eyes, throwing an arm around Hayley.

“Enjoying the party Hales?” Travie asks in a lazy tone, holding William close by the waist, he whispers something in his ear that makes William laugh and lean in to kiss him. Definitely less shy.

“Oh, yes! Best party I’ve been to so far. You guys should have been here earlier, a fight broke out between this girl and her boyfriend’s side hoe. It was crazy!” Ryan raises his eyebrows comically high while Travie simply nods.

“Shit, if only Spencer had sped up a bit coming here so we wouldn’t have missed it!”

Ryan retorts with “It was your pregame rituals that made us late, so if anyone’s to blame.” Ryan finishes with a sip of his cup, William stares mid laugh and Ryan’s sudden sass.

“Where is Spencer anyway!” Hayley shouts out, scandalized, looking around the room for assumedly Spencer.

“Let’s go look for him.” Ryan says with a hand on her back, pushing her away from the three men that clearly want to get back to what they were doing. He winks at Gabe as he leaves and is returned with a thumb up.

“Okay, bye boys!” Hayley shouts over her shoulder nearly bumping into a guy holding a hand over his mouth running towards the kitchen. Ryan watches him turn the corner and hears the collective sounds of disgust from the kitchen. He doesn’t think he wants to find out if he made it to the sink or not.

They walk from what he presumes is the entertainment room, out the sliding where he stands in front of a large Spanish style in ground pool. The pool is lit up with blue lights, making his oversensitive brain think it’s the most beautiful pool he’s ever seen. Hayley grabs him by the arm before he can even plan jumping in. They walk around the wall of the house the find more drunks hanging around a grassed area and an outdoor bar. He also discovers this is where the keg resides.

“Seems like all your friends are kissing someone tonight.” Hayley says. Ryan too busy looking at the green grass and listening to the excited squeals from the pool to notice whatever Hayley is talking about, he follows her eyes and sees what she sees. They found Spencer.

He sits at the outdoor bar with a pretty blonde on his lap, his hands in her hair while he smiles into a kiss. The sight makes Ryan smile and grimace all at the same time. Good for him.

“You gonna kiss anyone by the end of the night Ryan?” Hayley asks with genuine curiosity, but it comes across as sympathy. Ryan scoffs.

“Probably not.” He says briefly, Hayley hums thoughtfully before gasping and grabbing his arm once again, it makes Ryan look down at her with an annoyed smile.

“There’s something you have to see!” she exclaims excitedly, even jumping up and down, pulling on his arms, he stumbles after her reluctantly. They walk passed the kissing pair to the kitchens back door, it seems Ryan’s going to find out if that guy made it whether he likes it not. He’s happy to find out that the kitchen is devoid of vomit when they walk through, back to the main room. The mere thought of walking through the crowd again fills him with dread. Hayley doesn’t seem to care as she pulls him through, his only sense of direction her orange hair standing out amongst the sea of people. He thinks they are walking back out the front door until she turns left, turning towards the staircase. As they climb she mumbles sentences like “You’re gonna love this Ryan, it’s right up your alley.” Ryan stares at the art hanging on the wall they pass, the intricate patterns and the dark ones, they pass one with a screaming face that makes him gasp.

At the landing of the staircase he sees another smaller living room, they walk through the hazy cloud of smoke down the hallway. Hayley stops abruptly in front of a door, Ryan bumps into her side and she giggles.

“You okay?” she giggles out watching Ryan’s face split into a smile.

“Yeah, just, fuck. You know?”

“Oh, I know. You’ll be alright.” She turns to the door once again, rubbing her hands together conspiringly. She grabs onto the silver handle turning it, glancing at Ryan in shock when it opens.

“Dumb prick never locks anything I swear.” She pushes the door open all the way and Ryan looks on with childlike wonder. The door swings open to reveal what he now identifies as his favorite room of the house yet. The walls are lined in soundproofing and mirrors making it seem even more professional then Ryan originally thought. In the far corner sits a shiny drum kit on a risen stand around it are cables and microphone stands. A proper practice space. Straight ahead of Hayley is a large black, sleek piano, acting as the center piece of the room, which it really is. Ryan turns his head to the left and his eyes widen even more. At least fifteen professional electric guitar and basses sit mounted on the wall. Ryan sees a Telecaster like his, wanting to take it down. The wall length mirror to his right makes the room seem as if it goes on and on.

“Pretty cool, right?” Hayley says, watching Ryan as he gawks at the room, yeah, definitely up his alley.

“Yeah, pretty cool.” Ryan answers lost for words as he continues scanning the room. He sees more miscellaneous instruments in the closest corner that peak his interest. A cello sitting proudly on its stand next to the most stunning saxophone he has ever laid eyes on, it seeming to reflect light around the room off its gleaming surface. Hayley walks up to the piano, sitting on the stool, lifting the cover. She hits a few random notes before building a rhythm which turns into Fur Elise. Ryan walks further into the room, no longer standing awkwardly by the door, to observe the wall of guitars more closely. He notes that’s some of them are signed even though he doesn’t know by who. The piano abruptly stops behind him.

“Play it.” Hayley says, Ryan turns to face her, and she nods her head to the guitar he’s been staring at awkwardly.

“I don’t think I should, the owner might mind.” Ryan says nervously ringing hands together looking desirously at the guitar still.  
Hayley gives him a soft smile “He won’t, it’s fine.” Ryan looks between Hayley and the wall of guitars a few times, weighing up his decisions, if Hayley says it’s okay, then it’s most likely okay.

He flashes her one last smile and walks ever closer to the wall. He places his hand on the neck, the wood cool to his fingertips, he hoists it off its hooks carefully and walks to the nearby stool, putting the strap over his head. It’s a lot lighter then his one at home, and less scratches on the finish. He sits down and plugs the amp in, turning it down low, Hayley watches him completely fascinated.

He breathes out once and plucks a string. The sound that comes out is the most captivating sound he thinks he will ever hear. He plucks out a short melody getting lost in the feeling. He hates to say it, but he likes this guitar a lot more than his baby. He continues playing short Pete Townshend-esque riffs, tapping his foot along to the beat.

“I could have sworn I locked this door.” A voice draws Ryan out of his daze, he looks to the door to see a man leaning against the frame, watching him with crossed arms.

“Well, you thought wrong.” Hayley sing songs out, walking to the man and giving him a drunk kiss on the cheek, Ryan averts his eyes.

“Looking after yourself Hales?” the man says, eyeing Hayley suspiciously.

“Yes, dad. Jeez why’s everyone asking me that tonight!?” Hayley shrill voice bounces off the walls and into Ryan’s ears making him involuntarily cringe.

“Because, last I heard, you spent the night in a cell for assaulting a police officer with your hairbrush.”

Hayley laughs, her eyes widening in realization, Ryan awkwardly strums the guitar not wanting to interrupt. “Oh yeah, no that happened weeks ago, it’s all good now. What about you, what you been doing, what’s the scoop?” Hayley rambles out, the man’s gaze meets Ryan’s again and Ryan shifts uncomfortably in the stool.

“Business as usual Hales. Good to know you’re alright now though, Jon was worried for a while there.” He says in relaxed tone, hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, really in his element as he leans against the door frame.

“Tell Jon not to. It was a night out and a night out isn’t done right until you end up in a cell.” Hayley speaks proudly, and the man mumbles out an unconvinced “Uhuh, sure.”

“Who’s your friend?” the question makes Ryan stops strumming and look up into the brown eyes once again. The man smiles as Hayley bounds over to lean on his shoulder.

“This is my good friend George Ryan Ross the Third.” She bellows out, as though introducing a gladiator into the Colosseum to battle a lion.

“It’s just Ryan actually.” he mumbles out looking down at the ground.

“Ryan’s a writer.” Hayley says in a cheery voice, Ryan wants to fold in on himself.

“Not really, mainly poetry really.” He coughs awkwardly.

The man hums thoughtfully, not taking his eyes off Ryan. “I’ve never met a poet before.”

Ryan nods his head, thinking how silly and childish he must look as he averts the man’s gaze once again.

“I’m Brendon.” He steps further into the room and Ryan become hyper aware of his position. “What do you think of the party?” Ryan is grateful for the comfortable conversation change.

“It’s great. Your house is amazing, well from what I’ve seen of it.” Ryan stutters out, wanting to hit himself for how weird he’s being. He’s never bad at this.

“Thank you, do you wanna see more of it?” Brendon says, winking suggestively, Ryan barely keeps his grip on the guitar, thankful for the strap.

“Oh, while you’re here. I need a bit of a pick me up, this one smoked my stash.” Hayley says motioning her head towards Ryan. “Do you think you could help me out?” Brendon’s eyes stop intensely watching Ryan and lose their playful glimmer to turn to Hayley.

“You know I don’t have pre-rolled on hand. Go down there and ask one of them.” Brendon says in a cold tone that brings Ryan back to the music room. Hayley whines in protest.

“Not even a gram?”

“We’ve been over this, nothing less than a pound.” Hayley sighs, running a hand through her hair.

“Fine. I’ll see what’s going on downstairs. Ryan do you want anything while I'm there?” Hayley says looking at Ryan from the doorway, Brendon looks back at him with the same questioning look.

“Another drink if that’s cool with you?” he says holding up his near empty cup.

“You got it. I’ll be right back!” her voice echoes down the hallway as she leaves, Ryan hears her humming a short tune that gets quieter as she goes down the stairs. His thoughts are halted by the flick of a lighter.

He brings his attention back to Brendon, only now realizing how they are in the room by themselves. Brendon takes a long drag from the cigarette he just lit. Ryan watches the smoke swirl and dissipate as it leaves his mouth.

“So. A poet.” Brendon says, a smile in his eyes. He sits forward with his elbows on his knees, the lit cigarette perched in between the fingers of his left hand, his chain swinging

forward catching Ryan’s attention.  
He coughs bringing his eyes back up to those brown eyes, trying not to seem too reserved. “Well, not yet. I'm doing a course in English at the moment.”

“I’d love to read your stuff.” Brendon says making Ryan blush, Ryan doesn’t blush.

“I don’t think you would.” Brendon stands making Ryan jerk, he leans forward, and Ryan can smell his cologne. He puts his hand on the neck of the guitar, right next to Ryan’s, warmth radiating from his palm. Ryan releases his death grip on the guitars neck letting Brendon take it. Ryan can finally breathe again when Brendon steps away from him as the strap lifts from his shoulder. Brendon unplugs it and places it back on the wall. Ryan can see the muscles of his back as he stretches, he turns his eyes away before Brendon can see him looking.

“I would.” He speaks with finality, and Ryan has never felt so out of control of a situation. “Now, how about that tour then?’


End file.
